“Come here.” His voice was rough and a little bossy. He didn’t miss the way her eyes dilated at his tone, as if she liked him like that, a little demanding. He filed that away for later.
She didn’t hesitate, rising gracefully to lower herself onto the coffee table in front of him. For all her outward confidence, there was a note of something else in Lily that intrigued him. He could sense her hesitation. Maybe innocence. It made him want to protect her and dirty her up at the same time.
“Here?” Her voice was soft and breathy now. He felt as if she’d stroked his body with her mouth.
He nodded, never breaking eye contact. Slowly, deliberately, he took another sip of whiskey, letting the slow burn slide over his tongue, letting her watch.
Then, without hesitation, he reached out, sliding a hand through the wild red waves of her hair to curl his fingersaround the nape of her neck. The strands were still damp, carrying the scent of his soap, but under it, something softer, more feminine. Lily. The mix of the two, his scent and hers, made him wild.
He felt the shiver that ran through her, a flutter of sensation against him as light as a butterfly.
And then he kissed her.
Slowly. Deeply. Decadently.
She trembled, her lips parting with a sigh. Her head tilted back, and she met his eyes while he studied her face, her full lower lip that begged to be nipped. The freckles on her nose. Her pulse fluttered wildly in her throat, and those wide green eyes stared back at him, a heady mix of bold desire and shyness.
He took his time, coaxing, brushing her mouth with his, until she melted against him with a whimper. And then he gave her what he’d been dying to give.
He parted his lips, stroking the whiskey into the sweet silkiness of her mouth, letting her taste it the way he wanted her to—from him, on him, hot and slow and intoxicating.
She whimpered, opening wider, and he groaned, taking more.
His hands slid to her face, thumbs stroking over the delicate line of her jaw as he kissed her deeper, filthier, until she had no choice but to hold on to him. She tasted like sweet, hot liquor. He worked his fingers back into the heavy fall of her hair and held her mouth still.
Teaching. Tempting. Showing her exactly how he liked to drink his whiskey best.
Chapter Twelve
Rush Callahan kissedlike a man who was used to control—firm, unyielding, daring her to stop him. She had no intention of stopping. After years without another man’s mouth on hers, it felt like rain after a drought.
When he finally leaned back, licking the last taste of smoky whiskey from her lips, she opened her eyes slowly. His chest rose and fell as he flicked his eyes over her mouth hungrily. His eyes were darker than she’d seen them yet. His tongue came out, swiping a drop of whiskey from her bottom lip. The slow, hot slide of him against her mouth drove her wild.
She lunged.
The discipline she’d always clung to snapped—twisted and molded into something wild and reckless. She slid off the coffee table and landed in his lap, cupping his face, tangling her fingers in his hair as she pressed her lips to his and kissed that dirty grin right off his face.
He was ready for her.
One big hand cupped the back of her head. The other arm pulled her down, down, until she settled perfectly into the cove of his lap, her thighs spread wide on either side of his hips. Hispalm landed on her ass, guiding her against him while she kissed him for all she was worth.
He let her play first, tasting him in soft, delicate forays. Teasing. Caressing his jaw and feeling the scrape of his beard on her palms, using her thumbs to open his lips to her even more. He tasted like whiskey and every fantasy she’d ever had in her life, a little rough, a lot dirty, more than she could probably handle. She wanted to try.
Lord help her, she wanted everything he could give her.
She wiggled deeper into his lap, desperate to feel more of him pressed tight against where she ached. His lips were firm, his mustache silky when she traced a line with her tongue over the top of his full lip. His hands slid up her thighs, roaming over her hips, urging her on with his touch.
God, she needed this. Needed him. Needed to forget every second of doubt and loneliness that had been clawing at her. Rush burned all of it away.
He gripped her tighter, one hand gripping her ass, the other flexing around the back of her neck, keeping her core pressed tight against the thick ridge.
“Oh,” she breathed, rubbing against him.
He bit her bottom lip, tugging gently, then tilted her head to take more of him, deeper, until she was trembling and needy. Everything about kissing Rush Callahan was overwhelming in the best way possible. Hot and consuming, filthy, and completely addictive.
A perfect mix of control and chaos, like they could go off the rails at any second, and that was what made her come back for more. Years of placid, routine sex had trained her to think about passion as something measured and neat, not as necessary for her as it seemed like it was for others. But Rush’s kisses gave her a glimpse into what it could be like to forget decorum and let her body lead.
She melted into him, shivering, embarrassed by how close she was to coming just from a kiss.Don’t embarrass yourself, Lily.
